Saving Neverland
by MusicalFelix
Summary: AU. Neverland is dying due to a mysterious decline in the fairy population, and Peter is being sent out to convince some of the non believing children that fairies do, in fact, exist. When assigned the curious case of the Darlings, he is forced to bring them to Neverland to protect their faith. Now, he and the Darlings must work together to stop the Aging before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

_A young boy sat in a tree, looking around. Hearing footsteps, he tensed, attempting to conceal himself further amongst the branches and leaves of his perch. He peeked to find another boy looking in a nearby bush. He laughed silently to himself, Tootles would never find him up here! Feeling a presence behind him, Slightly turned around, finding the face of their boyish leader grinning at him. He let out a startled shout as he almost fell from his branch. As the older boy laughed, rising higher into the air, he pouted._

"_That's no fair, Peter! You weren't even it!"_

"_No one can hide from the Great Peter Pan!" He laughed, sticking out his tongue._

Peter awakened slowly, still clinging to the warmth of the dream. He frowned as he heard the peals of laughter from the other boys as they began to awaken. Knowing that a return to his dreamworld would now be impossible, he rose to face the day.

As he washed his face, he avoided the mirror at all costs. He knew what he would find there; a taller, more muscled boy, with the beginnings of a man's beard on his face. It had been this way since the Aging, and he could feel himself inching ever closer to Adulthood day by day.

It wasn't just Peter feeling the effects; The Lost Boys, the pirates, the Indians, and even some of the trees had all begun to age. With the ever declining fairy population, less of their magic was available to help keep everyone suspended at a younger age.

Peter _hated_ it. He hated having to trim his hair to keep it out of his eyes. He hated how Nibs's voice was cracking. He hated how some of the Boys were starting to think about girls. He hated the man's baritone that insisted on pushing itself from his mouth. But most of all, he hated that he couldn't do anything about it.

He left his room, pushing aside the bear hide that separated his room from the rest of the hideout. He found himself entering the chaotic scene that daily greeted him as the boys roughhoused their way through breakfast. The boys, seeing their leader, immediately ceased whatever action they were in the middle of in order to crowd him and demand that he heed their request for the day's activities.

"I want to go _hunting–"_

"We did that yesterday! I want to fight pirates!"

"No, let's swim with the mermaids–"

"That's a _girl_ activity, you're such a _girl_!"

"ENOUGH!" Peter bellowed, as the boys began to tease Slightly, "We're going to do a manhunt."

The boys began to chatter excitedly, as they had not done a manhunt in a long time. A debate soon began about how they would select the boy to be hunted. After much debating (involving a pick a number game versus having someone close their eyes and point), it was decided that a bundle of sticks would be cut to an equal size, with one shorter than the rest. The boys would close their eyes and draw a stick, and whoever picked the shorter stick would have a minute to hide somewhere on the island as the other boys planned their strategy to catch him. They cut the sticks and drew, and Peter laughed to find himself with the smallest one.

"You can't fly, though, Peter. That's an unfair advantage!" Slightly called after him.

"Still sore about me finding you that last time? I think it's time you got over that!" He chuckled, as he walked off toward the tree line.

He figured a minute would surely be enough time to find an abandoned animal den, especially with his knowledge of the island. Sure enough, within the first minute (for he had walked very far to give himself more time), he came across an old fox's den. Covering his tracks and nestling inside, he smirked to himself.

"Oh, the cleverness of me!"

As he waited for the boys, he began to get quite a bit bored. He almost wished he hadn't suggested manhunt so he could play his reed pipes for a bit. But he resisted, knowing that half the fun of the game was gloating his victory in front of the boys. Just as he was about to rest his head, he propped himself up again, hearing the shuffling of feet.

"Check the trees! He's sure to have hidden in there!"

Peter snickered silently to himself, but froze when a pair of feet stopped in front of his hiding den.

"Hey, guys, look! A fox den! Do you think maybe...?" Nibs squeaked.

"No way, Peter always prefers higher ground."

"I'm not seeing him!" called one of the Twins.

"Me neither!" shouted the other.

"Alright, let's move on, then. There are other trees."

Peter waited about two minutes after they left before he popped his head out of the hole. Smirking, he gave a proud crow at his success. Now he only needed to make it back to base without the boys finding him. He strode off for home, only to be interrupted a moment later by a floating ball of light tinkling urgently in his face.

"Wha– A council meeting? But they're so _boring_." He whined to the sparrowman in his face.

The tinkling became laced with anger as the light fluttered ever more urgently in front of him.

"Fine," he sighed, "lead the way."

He followed the light through the woods, playing his reeds with boyish delight. As he continued, though, the smile fell from his face. He remembered how brilliant the flowers used to be, how they seemed to be from some ethereal place. Now, they were easily outshone by some of the better tended gardens on the Mainland.

They came across their destination; the Fairy Tree. Legend had it that the Fairy Tree was what connected Neverland to the Earth, that it was what provided the fairies their magic to nurture the land. It was the source of life, and without it, it was doubted that Neverland could continue to exist. Those on the Mainland called it by a different name; Yggdrasil.

The fairies were already arranged in their circle. Peter took his place, hovering above the ground with his legs crossed so he may "sit" with the council and avoid tainting the ground in which Fairy Tree was rooted. He murmured a happy thought to the Fairy Tree, one of the warm Mainland sun on the day he left, then bowed his head to the King and Queen of Fairies.

"Yarrow, gather some of your fellow guards and ensure this meeting stays entirely private." the King addressed the sparrowman who had fetched Peter.

The sparrowman bowed, before nodding to a few flowers and trees. Out flew a number of other scout fairies, who began chasing out some of the butterflies and other creatures.

"I now call this meeting to order." announced the Queen.

They went over some of the basic items found at nearly every council meeting; ways to reduce killings by hawks, flower pollination schedules, ideas for maximizing their daily use of fairy dust. Finally, all were dismissed.

"Except you, Peter." the Queen twinkled softly, "My husband and I need to speak with you privately."

Peter sighed internally, but stayed, not wishing to show any disrespect. The King smiled bemusedly.

"You do not enjoy being here?"

"Not to offend your majesties, but I can't help but to find council meetings horrifyingly boring."

"Oh, Peter," the Queen giggled, "growing so old, and yet still such a boy."

Peter stiffened, and the fairies took notice. They said nothing, though both had been filled with the recent worry that their fairy boy might soon grow up. They feared that, should he stop believing, he would decimate the fairy population.

"Peter, we have a new assignment for you."

Peter sighed. He already had assignments from them, too many assignments. They had him traveling to the Mainland nearly every day recently in order to convince some of the non believing children that fairies did, in fact, exist. And when he wasn't doing that, he was playing his pipes and telling tales in fairy language to infants to make them laugh, and make more fairies.

"As you wish, your majesties. Might I ask who I'll be convincing today?"

"Don't take an attitude, Peter. These children are different. For some reason, they flit back and forth between belief and disbelief in our existence. The boys should be an easy fix, considering they're young and it's still their time to believe, and you needn't worry about the girl, she's close enough to adulthood to be a lost cause for us. But ensure the boys' faith in us, through whatever means necessary."

"Yes, your majesties."

"Thank you, Peter. Now, go search for the Darlings."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, y'all! Sorry this took so long, busy with school and things. Next update won't be up for a while either, but I'm hoping to have**** to a normal schedule once things cool down.**

Wendy ripped open the curtains, pouring bright light into the nursery. Two boys groaned. The oldest turned himself away from the glaring light, while the youngest begged for mercy in the form of an extra five minutes. She tutted as she went to each bed an tore off the covers.

"Come now, boys. You'll be late for school, and you know how cross Ms. Bennett can be."

"Can't we stay home, Wendy?" The youngest begged.

"Oh yes, I do feel a dreadful flu coming on." Insisted the elder.

"Now, John, that is nothing to be making wisecracks about. Be thankful for your good health."

John mumbled something rather impolite as he shoved his glasses onto his face.

"Come now, get ready for class. You know Father doesn't stand for any of your foolishness."

That made the boys move much quicker. John shooed Wendy out of the room as he and Micheal got ready, being in that stage where everything was embarrassing. Wendy went down the stairs, finding her Aunt Millicent badgering the cook about their breakfast. Apparently, the eggs were the slightest bit overdone. Wendy grimaced as she listened to her aunt belittle the poor cook. She had been at the tail end of quite a few of those lectures, and they were rather unpleasant, to say the least.

She walked outside quickly to fetch the paper. The boy who sold them at the shop always dropped one by her house and let her pay her tab at the end of the week. It made Mr. Darling cross to wait the extra fifteen minutes for Wendy to walk to and from the shop to purchase the paper, yet he was cross when it was not on the table in time for breakfast. And most everyone was aware of Mr. Darling's nasty temper.

Mrs. Darling used to be able to quell his tempers, but the poor thing had died years earlier. Wendy hated hearing the women at the shop cluck and gossip about "those poor Darling children left all alone with that man". The only thing she hated more than the gossip was the fact that her father had felt it necessary to bring Aunt Millicent in to teach Wendy about being a woman while she played nanny to her brothers.

She laid the paper on the table just as her father was coming down the stairs. Hurriedly, she scrambled to her place at the table, waiting for him to sit so she might take her seat. She gulped and exchanged a nervous glance with John, Michael was not yet at his chair. Mr. Darling sat down, and the others did the same. As cook served them, the beefy man scanned the table.

"Where is Michael?" he asked gruffly.

"Please, Father, he's still putting on his uniform. He does have such trouble getting his feet through the socks." John supplied quickly.

Sensing her father's annoyance, Wendy leapt up quickly, "Perhaps I should-"

"No!" He barked, "The boy should know how to dress himself by now. He's almost ten, he's practically a man. _I_ will deal with the situation."

He prowled up the stairs, and the two siblings exchanged glances once again. When the shouting began, both dropped their gaze to their plates. Wendy flinched as she heard a loud _smat!_ Followed closely by Micheal's wail. There was another bellow, demanding the boy's presence downstairs. Mr. Darling could then be heard stomping back down to the table. Only a few minutes later, he was followed by a sniffling Michael, who was holding a had to his cheek. Wendy made no comment, though she gave the young boy a comforting smile.

They continued their breakfast in silence, and at the end, the children rose. They thanked cook for the meal, and then left for school. Wendy, as always, escorted the boys to ensure they stayed out of trouble.

Once they were a safe distance away, Wendy crouched down to Michael.

"Let me see your cheek." She insisted gently.

He removed his hand, revealing a large red print where their father had hit him. Wendy frowned, and pushed the hair from Micheal's face. She touched the mark gingerly, judging if it would bruise. The boy winced, and Wendy's frown deepened.

"We'll get you a bandage to cover that up so the other boys won't tease you."

"And make sure to tell them you fell so the teachers won't try to talk to Father again." John interjected.

Michael nodded. Wendy quickly put some bandages on her tab at the shop on her way to drop off the boys. Before they entered the school, she plastered one over Micheal's cheek. She then gave each boy a kiss on the cheek and sent them off to their lessons.

She sighed as she turned to go home. Unfortunately, she bumped into someone.

"Oh! My apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going." She stammered.

The someone was a boy around her age, perhaps a few years older, though it was hard to tell. He looked just as surprised as she did, with a small bit of red growing under his cheeks.

"No, it's okay, girl." He said absentmindedly, turning to contemplate the school.

She looked curiously after him for a moment before shaking her head. She had far more important matters to attend to. She hurried home, not willing to give her father more to be angry about.

She entered quietly, heading straight for the kitchen.

"You're safe," smiled cook, "He left for work while you was out with the boys. Though he did seem a mite put out that you was taking so long. I reckon he'll forget it by the time he gets back, though."

"Thank you ever so much."

"Now, what shall we teach you today, hmm? How about a nice shepard's pie?"

"I'd love to help, but I have to clean, and then I have lessons and tea with Aunt Millicent, you know that."

"Right, sorry, love."

Wendy left the kitchen and dragged herself up the stairs to the nursery to clean up all the books the boys had left out after their secret story time. Mr. Darling's temper flared whenever he heard Wendy relaying to the boys "all that poppycock about princesses and pirates", so the children often stayed up late into the night, waiting for their father to fall asleep. Wendy tucked the books away under the boys' mattresses, that they might pick up from where they left off on The Twelve Dancing Princesses that night.

She then picked up the toys, made the beds, and folded the clothes they had left on the floor. She walked down the hall to her room. There she, again, made her bed and folded her nightdress. She looked out her window, and was surprised to see the boys from earlier staring inquisitively at her home. A shiver ran up her spine.

"Wendy! It's time for your lesson!" Aunt Millicent shrieked.

The boys looked up. She held in a gasp. Not only was the boy looking into her window, but he was staring straight into her eyes. He had a devilishly amused grin on his face, as if he were daring her to do as she was told. She got the impression that he was one who got into a good amount of mischief.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling, come down here this instant!"

Wendy continued to look at the boy in the street. His eyes flicked to the drawing-room window. _Go_, he mouthed. She frowned a bit, and he smirked. Oh, what a devil! _Later_ he mouthed again, walking off.

"If you are not present within the next five seconds, I shall tell your father you skipped your lessons."

"Coming! Sorry, Auntie, I must have dozed for a bit!" Wendy stuttered, panicking, as she rushed downstairs.

"A lady does not rush." Her aunt tutted, "That is for boys and men who have work to do. A lady takes her time, and moves with grace."

"Yes, ma'am." Wendy whispered, bowing her head humbly, as Aunt Millicent had taught her.

They began knitting, Aunt Millicent criticizing Wendy's handiwork the entire time.

"No, no, no! Look at that spot right there! There's a large gap, why, it's not even a gap, it's a hole! How do you expect to find a husband if you can't even knit so much as a tea cozy? How shall you knit your infant's blankets? Now unravel it and try again."

Wendy lost more and more of her patience as time went on. Just when it seemed she might burst her Aunt Millicent looked at the clock on the mantlepiece.

"Goodness, me. Is that the time already? Alright, dear, wash up for tea, and afterward you may have some time to spend with some of the other girls in town."

"Thank you, Aunt Millicent."

They enjoyed a lovely tea prepared by cook, and then Wendy left the house with grace and poise. As soon as she was out of vision, she stuck out her tongue at her aunt and raced all the way to the library, erupting peals of laughter all the way. She arrived breathless and pink-faced, and walked straight for the fairy tales. She wanted something on fairies for the boys, as that was their current request.

She knew they were really requesting those stories that Mother used to tell. She knew they wanted to hear Mother tell them to leave cream out for the fairies, and to clap their hands and laugh so the fairy magic might be stronger. She knew they wanted Mother, but all she could offer were some second-rate tales about a Rose-Elf that probably wasn't nearly as true as her Mother's.

But she also knew that if her father ever so much as heard a whisper of those tales, or of the word fairy in general, he would become rabid with fury.

"So we meet again." She heard behind her.

She whirled around to find the devilish face of that boy, grinning at her from above. He looked at her books with an amused grin, as though he found them ironic.

"Nice choice. Big believer?" He asked drily.

"Sir, I do believe it is basic manners to introduce oneself to a lady after interacting with her on multiple occasions. I also don't believe polite people typically lurk outside the homes of strangers." She huffed.

He raised his brows, his amused grin growing wider.

"Well, then. My name is Peter, pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ms-"

"Darling. Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

Something flashed in his eyes. Was it guilt? But what could he possibly be feeling guilty about. But that cocky smirk soon reappeared onto his face.

"Would you like some help with those?" He asked, pointing at the stack of books in her arms.

"Oh no, it's quite-" But he was already taking them.

He flipped through one of them, snorted and put it back.

"What was that for?" She asked, reaching for it.

"Completely wrong. Fairies don't give people dreams. They put the dew on the roses in the morning and make sure the seasons come and go at the proper time."

Wendy felt a pain, remembering all the times that her mother used to tell her the same thing.

"And they're born of an infant's first laugh." She said to herself quietly.

"Exactly! Why, you're practically an expert so why don't you believe?"

"Excuse me?"

Before he could answer, chimes could be heard. Wendy looked at the clock and gasped.

"Three o'clock? Forgive me, Peter, but I must go and meet my brothers at the schoolyard."

"Allow me to escort you."

They walked together, and Wendy finally took in his strange appearance. She had been far too distracted by his face to notice his clothing, but now that she saw it, she wondered how she did not note that first. He was dressed entirely in skeleton leaves, with shoes made of buckskin. She decided she wouldn't bring it up, it wasn't polite, after all. They reached the schoolyard, and her brothers dashed out to meet her. They stopped when they noticed Peter.

"Wendy, who is he?" Micheal asked.

"John, Micheal, this is Peter. Peter, these two are my brothers, John and Micheal."

"Might we take a walk in the park? I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

The followed, curiously, though they had been frequently taught that curiosity lead only to trouble. They went to the flower garden, an area that Wendy and her mother used to frequent. Wendy ignored the familiar stab to her heart when she thought of her mother.

The Darling children listened to Peter as he explained who he was and where he came from. They were already quite familiar with his story, as he had once been quite the recurring character before bedtime. He explained how the fairies were dying off mysteriously, how the island (even the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up) was aging, but most importantly, he explained his mission. How he was tickling infants yo ensure they laughed and produced as many fairies as possible, and helped the fairies reach Neverland safely. How he was visiting children who didn't believe to save the fairies who were dying of disbelief.

"Which brings me to why I'm here with you. To convince you, permanently. You keep changing your beliefs, and we need you to stay firm believers, maybe clap your hands for them once in a while."

Wendy exchanged a nervous look with her brothers.

"Peter, it's rather hard for us to state that we believe in fairies."

"Why? It's just a simple belief, the proof is everywhere, you know."

"Yes, I realize that. It's just... our father."

"Your father?"

"He doesn't like fairy talk much, and he gets rather... upset whenever we discuss it. He makes us reassure him that we don't believe."

"Oh." He seemed to be thinking hard. His face brightened, as though he were coming up with an ingenious plan, "Come with me."

"Sorry?" John asked.

"To Neverland. Your father won't be able to do anything about you believing in fairies there. Micheal, John, you two can join the Lost Boys, it'll be a riot. And Wendy! You can be," he thought again for a bit, "You can be Mother. The boys are always saying how much they want someone to tell them stories, and I bet you know a few."

"Neverland! Can we, Wendy? Can we can we can we?" Micheal gushed, tugging on his sister's hand.

She looked at her brothers and thought on it. She did feel it would be wrong to run out on her family, but it would get Micheal away from their father. It would save John from having to hear the cries of his siblings, or having to utter a cry himself. She could share stories about their mother and reminisce and finally mourn her properly.

"Certainly. We must pack for our trip. Peter, do you think it would be possible for you to come to the nursery window at ten o'clock?"

"If you show me where it is, I can be there."

She smiled as she walked home, the three boys following in her wake.

**Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review :)**


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